


As Black as the Night, As Empty as the Hearse

by Jenn0509



Series: All in the Family [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Kidnapping, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/M, Gay Male Character, M/M, Mind Games, Mind Palace, Moriarty is Alive, Multi, Murder, Next Generation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Parentlock, Post-The Reichenbach Fall, Protective John, Rape Recovery, Sequel, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn0509/pseuds/Jenn0509
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a year after the end of 'As Blue as the Sky, As Deep as the Ocean'. Life for the Holmes-Watson family has settled into relative predictability, well, as much as living with Sherlock Holmes can be predictable. They're all used to the cat-like sound of violin playing in the middle of the night.</p><p>They've been lucky. Sherlock, John, and Kate have had seventeen years that have passed like a fairy tale. The bedtime story isn't over though. Sherlock was wrong. There was more than just one Empty Hearse, and their children will be caught in the balance.<br/>-----------<br/>Sherlock was standing stock still, not crouching closer to the boy in a show of unconscious familial bond like the other three were. When he spoke, the words were slow, delicate in their severity, “What did he say?”</p><p>Hamish shook his head, “What Da?”</p><p>“What. Did. The. One. With. The. Lighter. Say?” Sherlock enunciated, jaw set firmly.</p><p>“That he was going to burn the heart out of me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burn The Heart Out

**Author's Note:**

> So this chapter ends pretty dark, a big gap from where 'Blue' was. This first chapter does deal with a sexual assault, just a warning.
> 
> Timeline Rundown:  
> John is 52, Sherlock is 50, Kate is 43, Emma is 26, and Hamish is 17.
> 
> When Emma and Hamish talk about their Da, they mean Sherlock, Papa is John.

Julian Lestrade kissed his fiancée one last time as she slipped a chain over her head, her engagement ring hanging from it, “Wish you’d actually wear this thing. It’s going to cost me my paycheck for months.”

Twenty-six year old Emma Holmes rolled her eyes, “Julian, baby, I love it, and I love you, but my dads have been gone on a case since before you proposed. Telling them that we’ve gotten engaged over the phone would not end well. Papa would be furious, and Mum can’t keep a secret like that from anyone, so we’re going to have to wait. Two more days, and then this bad boy can start hanging out on my finger, promise.”

Julian sighed heavily, but smiled at her, green eyes bright, “I love it when you just bombard me with logic. There’s something creepy sexy about that.”

“You’re weird.” Emma quipped back, kissing him on the cheek as she answered her phone. Julian played with her hair while she listened to her mother talk. “He what?” Emma asked, aghast at what she was pretty sure her mother had just said.

“Hamish punched a boy at school today. If his grades weren’t so good, they’d’ve kicked him out of school. As it is, the principal is keeping all the boys until someone comes to pick them up and talk about the incident.” Kate growled over the phone, “Would you go be with him? I’m on my way, but one of my waitresses quit today, so I’m waiting on Jeanine to show up before I can leave. I’ve called your fathers, but they won’t be able to catch an earlier flight home for another hour.”

Emma sighed, walking towards their desks impatiently, “Yeah, I’ll go run interference. Just how hard could my baby brother hit anyone anyway?”

Kate echoed her daughter’s sigh, “I’m not sure the boy was conscious when the campus police got there. Just please, Emma, don’t hassle him.”

Emma laughed, “Oh, I won’t, trust me. But I am curious why Haim would hit someone.”

“Don’t you dare interrogate him, Emma Olivia Holmes. In this, you’re his big sister, not a detective.” Kate hissed.

“Relax, Mum. I’ve got him, promise.” Emma said, hanging up the phone.

Julian was staring at her from his desk, echoing her incredulous expression. “Let me get this straight, Hamish hit someone.”

Emma giggled, kissing him as she walked past, hand trailing against the stubble on his cheek, “Apparently. And sit up straight before your chair tips over.”

He laughed, leaning his chair back farther so he could watch his fiancée as she walked away. The chair stayed for three seconds before the wheels popped out from under it, leaving Julian sprawled out on the floor.

His father glared, “Really, Julian. Thought you’d’ve learned not to contradict a Holmes.”

Julian rubbed the back of his head, “Yeah, but it’s a whole lot less amusing for all involved. Don’t you agree?”

Greg glared, “You’re a fool.”

“Ah, but I’m a fool in love.” Julian quipped, getting to his feet and righting his felled chair.

“Emphasis on fool.” Greg grumbled, tossing a file on his son’s desk. Since he’d retired from field work he was always drowning in paperwork. Fortunately, his son and Emma were hard workers, so it was always easy to get one of them on a case. He could see how he’d probably upset his boss while he’d been in the field, “While she’s taking care of that, go run down this lead and make yourself useful.”

“You got it, Dad.” Julian said, scooping up the file and heading out the door.

Greg frowned, “Kids these days.”

Downstairs Emma was grabbing a bottle of water out of the vending machine when Julian rushed past, “Running down a lead, don’t leave for the gym without me.”

“Might have to, I’ve got to take the juvenile offender home at some point.” Emma said, walking outside with him, “I’ll text you.”

“You got it!” Julian yelled, running to his car.

Emma sighed. Anything Julian did, he did whole heartedly and with as much enthusiasm as possible, just one of the many things she loved about him.

At the school, Hamish was sitting outside the headmaster’s office. Emma kicked at a leg of his chair with the toe of her shoe, “So, Haim, what have you been up to today?”

“Sod off, Emma!” The seventeen year old boy snapped, pulling his knees to his chest.

“Woah, cool it, Hamish. I’m on your side.” Emma said, frowning at his unusual attitude as she looked him over. His bottom lip was busted, his knuckles bloody and bruised, and the hoodie he had on had seen better days, all consistent with a fight.

“Then can you get them to take the handcuffs off?” He begged, starting to breathe heavily, looking close to tears.

Emma didn’t like the expression on her baby brother, “DI Emma Holmes, can we take the cuffs off? He’s not going anywhere.”

“Alright.” One of the campus cops said, un-cuffing Hamish with great reluctance.

Hamish threw himself at his sister, clutching the leather jacket she always wore. Emma awkwardly put her arms around his shoulder, very aware of where his hands were in proximity to her gun. She’d never seen her brother like this, and very few of the scenarios rushing through her head ended well. “Haim, what’s wrong?” She asked, finally finding her voice.

“I want to go home.” He muttered into her shoulder, his chest heaving as he staved off some sort of panic attack.

Emma rubbed his back in a manner she’d seen her mother do to him his whole life. It usually calmed him down, but it seemed Emma didn’t have the right touch. He started shivering, and when one of the campus cops reached out to urge him to sit, Hamish let loose a cry of absolute terror, burrowing closer into his sister, sobbing. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey, let him go!” Emma barked, brushing the man’s hand off of her brother’s arm. She brushed his brown hair out of his face, all humor and teasing gone from her head. “Haim, what’s happened? Talk to me.”

He shook his head, trembling, tears mixing with the blood on his face as he pulled her close again. “I want to go home.”

Emma sighed, “Haim, you can’t go home. We’ve got to wait on Mum to get here to talk to the headmaster. I’m the only reason you’re not still in handcuffs. Let’s get you some water and a quiet room, okay?”

He gave no response.

She held onto him until they reached an empty conference room one of the campus cops indicated to, “I’ll be right back, okay?” As soon as she closed the door behind her, she spun on the two that had handcuffed him, “What the bloody hell happened?”

Both men stuttered, but the younger one spluttered, “He and some kid got in a fight.”

“Do you know what the fight was about?” Emma asked, glaring at the both of them.

Again, the younger one spoke, “N-not really. Although by the time we got there, some of the crowd was screaming about a faggot being around.”

Emma froze for an instant. Faggot? Hamish? Gay? It didn’t make sense to the sisterly part of her, but to the cold logical part, it fit. He was seventeen, a senior in high school, but he’d never once brought a girl home. Sure, he’d talked about a few, but she’d never seen him with one. It was entirely possible that he’d just not come out yet. “Let me know when that boy and his people get done with the headmaster. I will know what happened.” She snatched up her bottle of water and went back to Hamish.

He’d curled himself into a ball in the far corner of the room, leaning heavily on the wall. He did look up when she entered though, face tear stained, “I don’t want anyone to know, Emma. Can you not tell Mum I’m here?”

Emma knelt next to him with the water, “She called me after the headmaster called her.”

He pressed his eyes closed, tapping the back of his head against the wall, “I just want to forget today ever happened.”

“Haim, will you tell me?” Emma asked softly, again channeling her mother.

He pressed his face into his knees, shifting uncomfortably, “I don’t want to.”

Emma wished she could just reach into his brain, but she couldn’t, “You’re going to have to tell somebody. Wouldn’t you rather it be me?”

Hamish scoffed into the sleeves of his hoodie, “No.” The silence stretched for a few minutes, “I’ll tell Julian.”

Emma frowned in confusion, but she knew better than to contradict a possible victim. “Okay, I’ll go find him.” She left the room and called her fiancée, who was just as confused by Hamish’s request as she was, but agreed to abandon his investigation and talk to the boy.

Julian was there in ten minutes, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down her arms, “Don’t worry, Em. I’ve got him.”

Her mother arrived while Julian was still in the room with Hamish. The other boy was still in with the headmaster, “Where’s Hamish? Emma, why aren’t you with him?”

Emma grabbed her mother, stilling her, “He didn’t want to talk to me, he’s with Julian.”

Kate calmed slightly, “Your fathers will be here within the hour. Mycroft got a plane.”

“Good old Uncle Mycroft.” Emma drawled, wringing her hands.

Kate forced a laugh, “Don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll have a heart attack.”

Julian returned with a look that made Emma’s heart sink. “Julian, what happened?”

His hazel eyes flicked to her mother, “It’s uh...not good. I’ve got to take him to St. Barts.”

“What? There’s hardly a scratch on him!” Emma protested.

Julian nodded, “Not that you can see. He’s missing his shirt, and his pants. Uh...” He flicked his eyes back to Kate, face contorted in sympathy and grief, “I’m sorry. I can’t.” He dodged back into the room and came out with Hamish, who refused to look at his sister or mother.

Julian hovered in front of Emma for an instant, whispering, “You need to arrest that other boy for sexual assault, get him to turn the others in.”

Emma watched the stilted way Hamish walked, ignoring her mother’s protests as she held her back, “Mum, enough.” She took a steadying breath, “They sodomized him.”

“What?” Kate whispered in disbelief.

“Shirt gone, no underwear, busted lip, the way he reacted to the patrolman touching him, the way he’s walking. There’s really no other conclusion.” Emma said coldly. “We should go to the hospital. I’ll text Da.”

Her message to her father was brief. He’d know how to tell her Papa. She didn’t though. Her mother was already catatonic over the news. They took Emma’s car to the hospital, taking advantage of the attached sirens as Emma called in favors for someone to be there to arrest and interrogate the other boy.

Sherlock and John beat them to the hospital. Emma stood beside her father while Kate threw herself at John. “Who were these boys?” Sherlock asked thickly.

Emma shook her head, “Julian might know.” She sighed, “Da, you can’t murder them.”

He arched an eyebrow at his ever astute daughter, “Who said anything about murder. I’d simply like to arrange for specialized imprisonment.”

“No sending them to Aunt Irene either.” Emma admonished, “I’m a Detective Inspector, and I’d be obligated to rescue them. Don’t force me to put forth the effort.”

“This is why I wanted you to be a Consulting Detective. Much less obligation.” He spat the last word.

Emma rested her head against his shoulder, eyes fixed on her mother and Papa. “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

Sherlock hated the way she spoke those words, like the weak sniveling child she’d never been. This was one time when he agreed with Mycroft. Sometimes, caring was not an advantage. “His age will assist any physical recovery, and his abnormal intelligence should help him adjust back to life more quickly than the average victim.” That was all he could say to her really, and he just hoped his assertions were accurate.

“Well, if you do do anything, don’t tell me about it.” Emma tagged on.

“Deal.” Sherlock said, tapping two fingers against the back of her hand.

They went to the others when a female doctor approached, “Mr. And Mrs. Watson?”

“That’s us.” John said, standing, Kate’s hand clutched in his.

The doctor eyed Emma and Sherlock, but settled when Emma took John’s free hand, “Well, the DI that brought your son in was correct. Hamish was assaulted. Physically, he should recover in a few days. I think he should talk to a therapist though, he’s showing classic signs of Rape Trauma Syndrome.” Her eyes flitted between Sherlock and John, “Except for the DI that brought him in, Hamish has not tolerated any male presences. I’m going to suggest that you two keep your distance for a little while. Let him come to you.” She held a hand out to Kate, “Mrs. Watson, would you like to come see him? He’s been asking after you and his sister.”

“That’d be me.” Emma said, steadying Kate as she lunged to her feet, “Careful, Mum.”

John grabbed Emma’s wrist as they started away, staring his daughter down, “Make sure he knows that this changes nothing in this family. He needs to understand that.”

“Got it, Papa.” Emma said, letting him pull her into his arms and kiss her cheek.

“We’re here if he wants us.” Sherlock added as Emma rushed to rejoin her mother.

Kate approached her son carefully, reaching out to touch his split lip, “Oh, my baby.” Hamish wouldn’t look at her, fingers clenched on the fabric of his blanket. “Look at me, love, please?” None of them could deny Kate, there was something about her that made resistance futile, so he looked up, shame the evident emotion on his face. Kate pulled her son into her arms as tears began to fall again, “Shh, baby, you’re okay. You’re safe now. No one’s gonna hurt you here, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I didn’t want it, Mum.” Hamish cried hoarsely.

“I know.” Kate said softly, carding her fingers through his hair, “It’s not your fault. There’s bad people in the world, but nothing they do is by any fault but their own.” She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, staring at the perfect mix of her and John that looked back at her, “You will always be my little boy. This family is here for you, whatever you need.”

Hamish drew his reddened eyes to his sister, “Where are Papa and Da?”

“Outside.” Emma answered, wishing she could have taken his place. While she wasn’t as apathetic as her father by any means, she was mentally stronger than Hamish. He was gentle, kind, and he wore his heart on his sleeve. He was just like his father. They’d all tried so hard to keep the shadows out of his eyes, to protect him. They’d failed.

Hamish locked eyes with his big sister, “Emma, are you gonna get’m?”

She nodded, approaching slowly, relieved when he held a hand out to her. “I’m gonna get’m, Haim. Me and Julian.”

“Don’t let Da get in trouble.” He asked, wincing as he shifted on the bed.

“He’s always in trouble.” Emma said, earning a small smile from her baby brother.

He asked for their fathers then, and Emma practically ran to retrieve them. Hamish sighed heavily once the family was reunited, and started, unasked, into his account of what happened. “I-I thought Caden was interested, so I went out behind the gym with him. The others were waiting out there, and once he had my shirt off, they came out. They all just...held me down and Caden started gagging me with his...you know. They blindfolded me, and one of them yanked my pants off, started...touching me. They called me awful things, one pulled a lighter out. I could hear him clicking it over and over again, he said he was going to burn the heart out of me, or something like that. I could feel the flame on my back, and I somehow got a fist free and hit the lighter away. Caden’s the only one that stuck around after that, and I just kept hitting him. I pulled what was left of my clothes back on after he became unconscious.”

Sherlock was standing stock still, not crouching closer to the boy in a show of unconscious familial bond like the other three were. When he spoke, the words were slow, delicate in their severity, “What did he say?”

Hamish shook his head, “What Da?”

“What. Did. The. One. With. The. Lighter. Say?” Sherlock enunciated, jaw set firmly.

“That he was going to burn the heart out of me.” Hamish repeated, not understanding why of all he had said that that was what his father focused on.

Sherlock swept from the room. Hamish let out a ragged sob, “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

John shook his head, “No, Haim. That’s not it. Hold up. Your Da and I need to talk.”

“John?” Kate said in confusion as he left the hospital room.

“Not now, Katie. I...uh...I’ll explain later...I think. God I hope I’m wrong. I hope he’s wrong.” John mumbled, leaving the three alone. Kate looked to her daughter, who was just as in the dark, just holding her brother’s shaking hand.


	2. Single Red Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to those who left Kudos and comments, you guys are great. Hopefully this chapter gets things started! Can't wait to see what you guys think!

“You look good today, Hamish.” Dr. Mary Morstan commented as the boy entered.

He nodded, brushing his dark blonde hair off of his forehead. “Better. I uh, graduate next week, so Mum’s been imitating a hurricane for the last few days. She’s so excited.”

“Well she should be. It’s not everyday you get to watch your son graduate high school, much less with grades like yours.” Mary said, a pleasant smile on her face.

“Yeah, but how ‘bout a son who had some jock’s dick rammed down his throat?” Hamish said laughing a little.

Mary shook her head, “Well, at least you’re laughing about what happened. That’s an improvement over our last session.” She nodded towards the door, “Who brought you today? Your father?”

“Nah, Emma’s burned her lunch break for me.” Hamish told her, small smile on his face.

Mary looked disappointed for an instant, “Ah, she’s a good sister.”

“Yeah, she is.” Hamish agreed, “She’s the best. A nutter, but the best.”

“Your family is important to you.” Mary stated.

“Mum, Papa, Da, Emma, Auntie. 221 Baker Street is my home, and I couldn’t have gotten through this without them.” Hamish said, smile still on his face.

“So the nightmares have gotten better?”

He faltered, “Emma and Julian have stopped conspicuously spending the night at Baker Street so they can wake me up before I start screaming. It’s Da now though. He’s taken to being in my room or right outside all night. He thinks I don’t know, but he’s starting to pace a mark in my carpet. We’ve subconsciously agreed not to say anything to one another.” He scoffed, “Mum’s been making pancakes every morning. She hasn’t made pancakes since Da ruined Emma’s first date. None of us have had the heart to tell her that her pancakes are never cooked all the way.” He chuckled slightly, “Da has started making a ruckus in their bedroom to distract her so Papa can throw the pancakes in the microwave for thirty seconds. Just so they’re safe to eat.”

Mary nodded indulgently, “Very amusing stories, but have you been sleeping better?”

“If you mean, do I feel their hands on me every time I close my eyes? Then no. Most nights I dream about messing up my speech at Emma’s wedding in front of everyone.” Hamish admitted sharply.

“The wedding makes you anxious?”

Hamish shrugged, “No, I mean, I guess subconsciously, but I’m happy for Emma, really. Julian’s a great guy, and it takes a certain kind of person to actually like our family. I just wish it wasn’t so soon. Things have changed so much for me recently, and I just...why can’t they just be engaged for a little while longer?”

“So you want her to put her life on hold for you?”

“I’m not sure what I want anymore.” Hamish answered honestly.

Mary nodded again, “Because of what happened. How are you feeling about your sexuality?”

He put his head between his hands, “I was almost gang raped by a group of guys, and the only one I could ID ended up dead a week later.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Caden hurt me, and he’s the only face I’ve got to blame in my head. I feel nothing except anger towards him because he took advantage of something that it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with.”

“That you’re gay.” Mary assumed.

“I guess that’s what they call it, but I’d really like to think I’m like my father. Attracted to one sex, but there’s still the possibility that someone out there not of that sex might do it for them.” Hamish explained, “I’ve just never met a girl I could imagine anything with. Not ruling it out though.”

“But you’re also not ruling out pursuing a homosexual relationship.” Mary noted, “That’s good. Most people with your experience wouldn’t be so frank.”

Hamish looked pleased with himself, “Well, I’m not most people. And as for Caden’s supposed suicide. I don’t think he gave to shits about hurting me. He laughed about it.”

Mary was interested, “So you think someone killed him?” Hamish nodded. “Do you think it was one of your fathers?”

Hamish shook his head, “Nah, Papa would have made him suffer, so would Da for that matter only he’d live longer just to be in pain longer. Emma, she’s just like Da. She’ll hide behind the law, but if Caden said the wrong thing to her about me, she’d be capable of setting up a suicide. If it had been someone in my family though, it was probably Mum.”

Surprise colored Mary’s face, “Your mother? From what you’ve told me, she’s the most average person in your family.”

“Mum hides behind the shop, her sweet looks, just how bizarre Da and Papa are, but she’s the most lethal of all of us. She’d do anything to protect me and Emma. Even if it were Da or Papa who hurt us, she’d kill them.” He smiled, and for once it reached his eyes, “Mum loves us more than anything.”

“And your fathers don’t?”

Hamish was bothered by her question, and for the hundredth time, he was put off by her always asking about his dads. “That’s not what I meant. They’re all my parents, and they love me and Emma. It’s just, Mum would be more likely to kill someone and bolt with us. Da’d stick around to clean the mess up a little while convincing Papa to leave. No one would ever find us if we didn’t want to be found.”

“Interesting.” Mary muttered to herself, scribbling in her notepad.

Emma popped her head in the door, “Haim, it’s time to go.”

Again, an odd feeling hit Hamish. Since when did therapists not watch the clock? Mary stood though, a smile on her face, and shook his sister’s hand, “Miss. Watson, pleasure to meet you.”

Emma glanced to her brother, “Um, actually, it’s Holmes. I’ll be Mrs. Lestrade in a month though.”

Like all the women Hamish had seen Emma interact with recently, Mary fawns over the diamond ring on Emma’s left hand for a few minutes. “Hamish, keep writing in your journal, and I’d like you to bring it with you next time so we can discuss it a bit.”

Hamish nodded, instinct telling him to flee. He was catching his breath by Emma’s car by the time she exited into the parking garage, “Haim, you okay?”

“Yeah, just, panicky. I’ll be fine.” He answered, getting into the car. Emma flipped the collar on her coat up, and he rolled his eyes with a small laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

Emma grinned at him, “Just wanted to make you smile. And it worked.”

“See, your bedside manner’s not that bad.” Hamish told her, pulling a notebook out of his bag so he could busy his hands, drawing carefully even with the motion of the car.

“You’re an exception, Haim.” Emma said, turning right when she should have turned left.

“Where are we going?” Hamish asked.

Emma chuckled darkly, “To the gym, baby brother, to the gym.”

Hamish groaned, his hand smudging lines that had just been perfectly illustrated muscular tissue. “Emma, really? I know you and Julian go there for fun, but I’d rather read.”

“When you get the blood pumping, it gets the brain rushing. Come on, Haim, exercise is good for you. You don’t end up with abs like mine without doing something!” She gloated.

“Oh please, Em. You only work out with Julian, and you guys usually end up snogging when you’re done. Seriously, 221C is not a brothel, even if you and Da did turn it into a training room.” Hamish griped, frowning at his sister. “There’s weights in 221C now, why are we driving all the way across town to the gym by the Yard?”

“Because, Papa and Mum had the day off today, and Da’s in-between cases.” Emma explained.

That was all Hamish needed to hear, and all the reason he needed to agree with his sister’s atrocious waste of gasoline. There were some things a kid only needed to hear his parents do once.

He endured the gym for an hour, letting Emma drag him from machine to machine, each time forcing him through it by threatening his anatomy text book. She did know how to get to him.

When she came out of the locker room freshly showered and sprayed his hair mercilessly with dry shampoo, he knew something was up. “Emma, what’s going on?”

She paused, and gave him an expression too demure to be sincere. “Nothing.”

“Sure.” He said suspiciously, allowing her to drive in silence.

His heart stuttered when, at the door to 221B, she covered his eyes with her hands. Emma was taller than he was, and for an instant, he was back behind the gym. His spine was stiff as he forced himself to remember that she was his big sister, and she’d never hurt him. The whole process of calming himself took seconds, just long enough for her to open the door and urge him inside with gentle taps to the backs of his trainers.

Everything was silent before no less than a dozen people yelled, “Surprise!”

Emma’s hands left his face, and he was left staring in confusion at basically everyone his family...Da mainly...could tolerate. “Uh...um...it’s not my birthday, and we’ve already had a graduation dinner.”

His mother was bursting with excitement, but a firm hand on her shoulder courtesy of his Da stilled her. John approached him instead, everyone else watching in some sort of anticipation. “Hamish, you’re right, it’s not your birthday, and honestly, you graduated high school big deal. If you hadn’t, we’d’ve disowned you.” Hamish chuckled at the serious look on his father’s face, eliciting a smile from John, “Only joking. But...um...this came for you in the mail a few days ago, and it’s worth celebrating. You’ve worked hard for this, and we’re all so proud of you.”

Hamish stared down at the crisp off-white folder his father had placed in his hands, “Cambridge?”

Sherlock spoke up, looking all too pleased with himself, “Do open it, Hamish, Mrs. Hudson’s promised cake.” The elderly woman rapped Sherlock’s knees with her cane, glaring for a second before looking back at the boy she considered her grandson.

Hamish was trembling, ocean blue eyes staring at his Da, “But what if I didn’t get in?”

There was a slight twitch to Sherlock’s upper lip, “Is there any doubt?”

Emma leaned close to her little brother’s ear, “There’s a chance he may have peeked inside. Mum may have caught him with it and the kettle on to boil. We’re not really sure.”

Hamish laughed, taking the letter opener his sister had placed into his hand, and taking a deep breath. They were all silent as he read the letter: Julian impatiently waiting to pop the top off a bottle of apple cider, his father resting his chin on Molly Hooper’s shoulder, Anderson and Donovan looking raptly around the flat they were rarely given admission to on a casual occasion, Mycroft and Anthea hiding their anticipation behind their usual bored facade, and Mrs. Hudson grinning with pride that rivaled that of his mother and father, who were tangled around Sherlock.

“I’m in.”

Julian popped the cider, and the whole crowd cheered. For the next hour, Hamish forgot all about the nightmare behind the gym, and it was wonderful. He was going to med school, and not only med school, but med school at one of the best schools in the world. His mind was racing in excitement, and everything seemed too little and too much all at the same time. At least until he spotted the glass in his sister’s hand. “Cider, Emma? That’s a little weak for you.”

She seemed startled by his attention. After all, it was his party, and she’d drifted to the corner of the room to stare at Yorick for a few minutes. “Huh?”

Hamish gestured to her glass, “Cider. That was for me and Mum, but you never drink it. Your the one that plays drinking games with all the Yard boys, Papa, and Da at the end of a good case.”

“Jeez, Haim, can’t I be sober without getting my arse crawled?” Emma snapped irritably before wincing, “I’m sorry. This is your party, I’m supposed to be being nice to you.”

Hamish laughed. Sometimes he forgot the touch of psychopathy she got from their Da, just as she sometimes forgot how to interact with people, “It’s okay, Em. You won’t break me.” He peered at her intently, “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale.”

She chuckled, “Suppose I’m going to have to get used to you and your fancy learn’n, right? Besides, I’m always pale.”

He didn’t like the greenish cast to under her eyes, but was stopped from saying anything else when Julian joined them. “So, Haim, you excited? Cambridge. You’re going to be the best doctor the world’s ever seen.” He went to put an arm around Emma’s waist, but a flash of genuine fear filled her eyes, and she stepped away, making a hasty excuse to go across the room, almost literally hiding in their mother’s skirts.

“What did you do to my sister?” Hamish demanded. He’d give it all up to murder Julian if he’d so much as harmed a hair on Emma’s head.

Julian looked confused though, “I haven’t got the foggiest. She’s avoided me since you two got here. Thought I was imagining it, but I guess not.”

She didn’t got two blocks over home with Julian that night, instead she ended up in Hamish’s room, curled into a ball next to him, eyes far away. “Are you going to break up with Julian?” Hamish asked softly.

Emma blinked at him, “What? No.”

“You didn’t want him touching you earlier, and now you’re back here. That’s odd for a couple that’s going to get married in a month.” Hamish told her, brushing some of her deep red hair from her face.

Emma licked her bottom lip nervously, “I...uh...just need some space to figure some things out, that’s all. I love Julian, and I’m going to marry him.” She pinned him with her eyes, desperation all over her face, “Can we please just go to sleep, Haim? I’m exhausted.” Hamish nodded, sitting up and turning the light off before he curled around his sister. “Good night, Haim. I love you.”

Hamish smiled in the darkness. “Love you too, Emma.”

The next morning, they had pancakes, and despite the fact that Sherlock had turned up the temperature while Kate wasn’t looking, Emma didn’t eat.

Instead, she left as soon as the sun rose, heading to the one place she hadn’t been to in a very long time. Her grandmother looked surprised to see her, “Emma? My, I haven’t seen you in years. How disgraceful.”

Emma held her ground, “You can chastise me later. I’ve got some questions, and you’re the only one who’s going to have the answers.”

Mummy Holmes smiled then, satisfied that, even in her old age, there were still some things that only she could do. “Well then, do come inside.”

Emma took a taxi back to the city, but got out a handful of blocks away to walk under her umbrella, to clear her head in the rain.

An old man stopped her, “Please, Miss, some spare change?”

On any other day, she’d have shaken him off, but her lack of control over her emotions had left her vulnerable to sympathy. She dug in her pockets and dropped a few pence into the man’s jar. “Find yourself someplace dry to sleep tonight, okay?”

“That’s awfully kind of you.” He said softly.

Emma studied him briefly, “I’m not usually kind. Consider yourself lucky.”

He laughed, “Oh, I do consider myself lucky.”

“How? You’re living on the street.” Emma said, having a hard time to stretch her human understanding to allow for a happy hobo. She started to walk away, only to be stopped.

The old man had a firm grip on her arm, “Lucky ‘cause I got to meet you. I’ve a message for your father, little Princess. Ask Sir Boasts A Lot if he missed me.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Emma said in confusion, struggling against him, wishing she had her gun. But, it along with her badge were in her flat, where she’d left them before taking Hamish from school to his appointment the day before.

“Just tell him, Princess. He’ll know, and soon you will too. Soon, the whole world will know. But I want to ask, did he miss me?” He released her, but just as quickly snatched her arm back again. “Oh, and congratulations on your upcoming marriage. Sir Julian is truly a noble knight. Such a fighter. You’d be proud of him.” He sneered, shoving her away, sending her sprawling to the ground, umbrella skittering out of her hand.

Emma sprung back to her feet, but the old man was gone. Dread was nestled deep in her chest as she ran home, umbrella forgotten, heart racing. She tried to call his cell phone the entire way there, but he didn’t answer. At the door, she fumbled with the keys to their flat for a minute before throwing it open and rushing inside, “Julian! Where are you? Julian!”

He wasn’t there.

The only thing out of place was a single red apple, placed deliberately in the middle of their kitchen counter with a large bite taken out.


	3. Emotionally Compromised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finishing up where we left off last time, with the most adorable addition, Gladstone! Sherlock and John figure some things out while Hamish has gotten himself in a spot of trouble. Enjoy!

“Hamish, have you seen your sister?” Kate asked from the door of her son’s room.

Hamish looked up from the textbook he was studying, “No, she was gone when I woke up. Hopefully she and Julian are making up.”

“Making up?” Kate asked, sitting beside him, carding her fingers through his curls.

“She was weird last night. It was odd, she was fine until we got here, and he didn’t know what was up either.” Hamish told her, leaning back into her massaging touch. He really loved his mother. In many ways, she was his rock. Long blonde hair curling around a face not unlike his own, a beautiful face that defied her age, and the kind of internal steadiness that only came after years of turmoil. That turmoil had made her strong.

“Your Papa and I were about to go out, I think we’ll walk on over and see if our lovebirds are alright.” Kate told him, kissing his forehead.

“Where’s Da?” Hamish asked, and as if on cue, shrill violin music filled the flat. “Ah.”

Kate winced, “He’s got a new case as of four this morning. Already giving him trouble. Would you like to come with us?”

Hamish shook his head, “Nah, I’ve got to keep my studies up, especially since I got that letter.” He finished with a large smile.

His mother returned his smile, “You’d better. We are so very proud of you.” They stared at one another with identical eyes. “I’m proud of you.” She repeated softly, wondering where her baby boy had gone.

“Thanks, Mum.” He said, a blush coming to his cheeks.

She ruffled his hair playfully, and stood, “Any time, love, any time.” She met John at the door to her aunt’s flat.

“Just ring if you remember anything you need.” John told the woman, who glared at him.

“Honestly, John, I don’t need anything. You and Katie go out and have a nice Saturday. At least some of us will be able to escape Sherlock’s racket.” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Hamish is staying, so if you really need something, you can just give him a shout.” Kate told her aunt. On the steps of 221B she stopped her husband from hailing a cab. “Hamish told me he thought Emma was upset at something last night, I thought we’d do a quick run by.”

“Upset? About what?” John asked. Emma was Sherlock’s daughter after all. For her to be visibly upset it had to be something major.

Kate was worried too. “I don’t know. That’s why I’d like to walk over there.”

“Works for me. The exercise will do me good.” John said, taking her arm.

Kate punched at him playfully, “You talk like you’re a hundred years old!”

They debated his virility all the way to the flat Emma and Julian had been sharing for the last year. John’s hand went to his gun when they got to the door and it was ajar. “Kate, stay here.”

She shook her head, pushing ahead. Sometimes John was amazed that their children ever payed him any mind, their Mum and Da certainly didn’t. “Emma!” Kate yelled as soon as she got through the door, and John knew why. Emma was on the ground next to the kitchen island, sopping wet and not moving.

John went into action instantly, falling to his knees right next to Kate. Emma was pale, but breathing, eyes closed, blood trickling from her mouth and a cut on her forehead. He opened her mouth and relaxed, “It’s okay, Kate, she just had a seizure, hit her head and bit her tongue.” He said softly. “Emma, love, can you hear me?”

She stirred slightly at his voice and her mother’s touch, but kept her eyes closed. John could feel her pulse racing underneath his fingers. “Red.” She whispered, blood smearing over her lips.

“What?” John asked, looking up at Kate.

And then he saw past her.

The red apple.

In a daze, he stood, and picked it up. “I O U.” He hauled Kate to her feet, “Kate, call Sherlock, tell him to have Mycroft put men outside 221 and get over here.”

“What’s going on?” She asked.

“Not now.”

Kate went from frightened to pissed in an instant, “I’m sick of this ‘Not now’ business. First with what happened to Hamish, and here. I want to know what’s got you looking like you’re about to piss your trousers or to beat the piss out of someone.”

John ran a hand through his grey hair, sighing heavily, “Oh, Kate. It’s him. Moriarty. Or someone that was close to him. Sherlock and I have been investigating what happened to Hamish. It doesn’t add up, there were only two students besides Hamish and Caden out of class when the attack happened, both girls, both home sick, parents confirmed it. All video from the area was wiped clean, except what was in the school’s network. The school doesn’t have cameras behind the gym. Someone wanted us to know that it wasn’t students that attacked Hamish.” He shook the apple at her, “Moriarty left an apple just like this one as a taunt to Sherlock before you three were ever in the picture.”

“Moriarty.” Kate repeated, copying John’s movement with her hand in her hair. “Okay, okay, we can handle this. Right?”

“No, Kate. We can’t. Sherlock and I have already talked about all of this. We swore that if something else happened, you and the kids would vanish. This is just a taunt.” John told her, tossing the apple onto the counter.

“Not a taunt.” Emma said from her spot on the floor, eyes opening slowly. “Julian. He’s gone.”

John looked stricken, “Call Sherlock.” He hauled Emma to her feet, settling her back on one of the stools at the edge of the counter, “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts, and...” She lunged past him to vomit into the sink.

“Woah!” John yelled, steadying her.

“Emma!” Her mother cried, throwing her phone down to pull her daughter’s hair from her face.

She heaved a few more times before resting her cheek against the cool marble countertop. “Fuck.”

“Language.” Kate chastised automatically as John checked Emma over more closely than he had before, rummaging in their kitchen drawers for a flashlight and then shinning it in her eyes.

“Pupils are responsive.” He muttered to himself, checking the cut on her head again. The skin was torn, but there wasn’t any abnormal swelling behind it like he’d suspect in a concussion. “Just a cut. You shouldn’t be vomiting.”

Emma’s eyes widened in panic, and her mother stepped in, “John, how about you call Sherlock, and I’ll help Emma get cleaned up and pack some things.”

He looked suspiciously between the two of them, “Okay.”

Kate smiled thinly at him, wetting a paper towel to dab at Emma’s wounds, “Okay.” Emma looked at her mother warily, “Oh, sweet girl, don’t look at me like that. If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay. I would like to ask, however, where you were all morning.”

“I went to go talk to Gran about...it..., and I took a cab up until a few blocks away. I wanted to clear my head, thought the rain would help.” Emma said, eyes locked on the apple that rested on it’s side on the kitchen island. “Is Julian dead?”

Kate threw her arms around her daughter’s neck, “Oh, Emma, you can’t think like that.”

“It’s logical.” She said softly, “I know what this man’s done, I’ve calculated the odds, and they aren’t good. That’s what set off the seizure, actually. Haven’t had one in years.” She suddenly started looking around, “Gladstone? Where’s Gladstone?”

Kate followed her through the flat, and they were both relieved to find the mixed breed puppy sleeping in the bedroom closet, where who ever had kidnapped Julian had been kind enough to stash him with food and a bowl of water. There was even a puppy pad laid on one side. Emma pulled the sleepy ball of hair and puppy fat to her chest, pressing her nose into the fur of his back.

Her mother touched her hair tenderly, “There’s got to be one of them with the compassion not only to leave the dog alive, but to make sure he was taken care of.”

Emma nodded, “This development does improve the odds.”

“Let’s get you into some dry clothes, eh?” Kate offered, holding her hands out to take the puppy.

A listless nod was Emma’s response, but she kept Gladstone pressed up close to her neck as she pulled out clothing. Only when it came time for her to strip off her rain sodden clothes did she pass the puppy to her mother, who turned around to give her some privacy and to look out the window, “Best hurry, love, your father’s on his way up.”

Emma threw a hoodie over her head as her father busted into the bedroom, a furious expression on his face as he looked over her. He touched the blood that had stained her lips, “You’re bleeding.”

“Da, I’m fine. Freaked out, had a seizure, bit my tongue. Nothing I haven’t done before.” She said, but he was not amused, turning her head so he could look at the cut on her forehead, “Da, really, I’m fine. Papa already looked me over.”

He scoffed, taking the puppy from Kate and putting it back in Emma’s arms, “Don’t hit the counter with your head next time.”

Emma rolled her eyes, “Oh, I’ll try, Da. Since during a tonic-clonic seizure I’ve got soooo much control over myself.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You’ve spent too much time with Lestrade.”

“He is my boss.” Emma snapped back and instant before she gasped, “Has someone called him? About Julian?”

There was an almost imperceptible softening of Sherlock’s face, “John’s taking care of it. He’s fetching Molly and going to the Yard.”

“Good, good.” Emma said, gazing up at him with his own eyes, “The old man, the one who talked about Julian. He asked me to ask Sir Boasts A Lot if he missed him.”

Sherlock cursed in his head, “Not an agent of Moriarty, the man himself. This man who stopped you, what did he look like?”

“I don’t remember.” Emma said.

Sherlock hissed at her, eliciting a tiny growl from Gladstone. “Think, Emma. What. Did. He. Look. Like?”

She clenched her jaw, “I. Don’t. Remember!”

Kate heaved a heavy sigh. Sometimes they really were too much alike. “Sherlock, be nice.”

“Nice? I’m never nice. Emma should be used to that.” He snapped.

Kate slapped him.

Both Holmes’ stared at the blonde woman in shock.

“She is your daughter, and you will be nice. I know you’re frightened, but so is she. Help her, don’t humiliate her.” Kate said sternly, taking the puppy back from Emma. “Gladstone and I will be in the sitting room when you two are ready to act like civil people and cooperate.”

Sherlock watched her go, touching his stinging cheek. Emma sat down on the bed she and Julian shared. “The fact that you get turned on by her hitting you is rather alarming.” 

Sherlock jerked his eyes to her, banishing any and all improper thoughts. He could shag Kate senseless when there wasn’t Moriarty to deal with. He put his hands on Emma’s face, careful to avoid her cut. He wanted her focused, not in pain. “Concentrate.”

“Da, I can’t do that ‘Mind Palace’ shit like you can.” Emma bemoaned.

Sherlock taped his fingers against her temples. She flinched, “Yes, you can. I only disparage you to make you try harder.”

“Oh, really, that’s a comfort.” Emma sneered.

Sherlock clenched his teeth and rapped his fingers against her skin again, “Emma. This is imperative in finding your fiancé. If you want us to find him alive, concentrate.”

Emma pushed down the wave of terror that rose at his words, instead taking a deep breath and focusing on the touch of his fingers on her skin. “It was raining. I’d been walking for a block under my umbrella. A woman with a purple purse passed me. Her umbrella matched...”

“Not important.” Sherlock warned her.

She continued, focusing, “He was sitting on the steps of the condemned building four blocks from here. Asked for change, I gave some to him, a few 50ps, a pound. He told me I was being kind. I told him I wasn’t usually kind, he should consider himself lucky. He said he was, that’s when I got all stuck on a happy hobo. He looked filthy, but he didn’t smell. I should have noticed. His clothes were ratty, but they didn’t fit him. Not unusual for hobos, but it should have struck me as odd. I didn’t even notice the scar in his hairline. Bullet wound. Black hair. How could I not have noticed?”

Sherlock tapped her again, drawing her out of her head, “Good girl.” He sighed, “He is back.” He unconsciously played with a strand of her dark red hair. “I’d hoped he really did die on that roof. We need to get you someplace safe.”

“I want to help.” Emma protested.

“You’ve done more than enough. You’d be very little use in your current condition anyway.” He told her.

Emma paled, “My current condition?”

“You’re emotionally compromised.” He explained.

“Oh.” Emma said softly, throwing some things into the bag her mother had set out. “Emotionally compromised. And you aren’t? You’ve known Julian his whole life. Hell, longer than you’ve known me.”

“Yes, and he was an insufferably happy child, even with his parent’s ceaseless fighting and eventual divorce.” Sherlock said sharply.

“This man’s not going to stop at Julian, is he?” Emma asked softly, tucking herself against her father’s chest.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips agains the top of her head in a rare kiss, “No, no he is not. I won’t let him harm any of you.”

“Please don’t jump off St. Barts again. Papa’s still mad.” She told him.

Sherlock chuckled softly, not about to tell her that, this time, a faked suicide might not be enough, “Heaven forbid I make John mad.”

Back at 221, Hamish was getting worried. His Da’s phone had rung, and the consulting detective had run from the flat like he was on fire, forcing Hamish down to 221A to sit with Mrs. Hudson. He loved his adoptive grandmother, he really did, but out of all the inhabitants of 221 Baker Street, she was the worst at not bringing his mind back to the terror behind the gymnasium.

Now she was going on about getting mugged, “Oh, it was awful, Hamish. I just felt so violated, and...”

He cut her off, “Sounds terrible. I...uh...forgot a book from upstairs. I’ll be back.”

“Hamish! Your father said for you to stay down here!” She called after him.

He ignored her, and instead of going upstairs, he went outside. He lit one of the cigarettes he’d found in the flat after the last Christmas party, Mycroft’s if he were to guess by the expensive brand. Since that hellish afternoon, he’d taken to smoking when everything got to be too much. Emma knew. She’d caught him doing it, but told him as long as he didn’t go overboard that she wouldn’t tell their parents. He’d smoked more frequently right after, but the day Sherlock had given him an odd look that made him suspect knowledge, he’d cut back to maybe one or two a week.

The look on Sherlock’s face as he’d fled the flat had not been a good one. Hamish looked down at his phone. Mary’d told him to call any time he needed to. Surely noon on a Saturday wasn’t too intrusive.

He dialed her number, half expecting to get a recording telling him to hang up and call 999, but instead, Mary’s soft voice filled his head, “Dr. Morstan.”

“Hi, uh...it’s Hamish.” He muttered, suddenly feeling foolish with his inability to manage himself. The rest of the family never seemed to have those kinds of problems.

“Oh, hello, Hamish. Are you alright?” Mary asked brightly.

“Just...out of sorts. When can I come in and see you next?” Hamish asked.

There was humming on the other line, “Well, I’m at my office if you’d like to come now.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.” Hamish replied, hailing a taxi. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just call his parents or Emma to talk, but it was nice to talk with someone when it didn’t matter what they thought of him. And Mary was so understanding.

He failed to hear the pleased smile in Mary’s voice, “Wonderful, I’ll be waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guesses and Speculation welcome!
> 
> Next chapter might be a little slower in coming, I'm working all weekend and have a paper that's, sadly, not going to write itself.


	4. Too Perfect To Be Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! The inspiration for this story just died on me. I opened the file back up tonight though, and just knew what I wanted to say for the last half of this! So, here it is, enjoy, drop me a comment if you'd like, and again, so sorry it's been so long!  
> -Jenn

4:  
“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock yelled.

The elderly woman jumped in her chair, hand on her chest, “Blimey, Sherlock. Why are you shouting?”

“Where’s Hamish?” Sherlock asked, opening one of her trunks like he expected Hamish to be hiding in it.

“He’s not in 221B.” Kate called, rushing down the stairs in a most ungraceful manner.

Mrs. Hudson sighed, “He said he was going up to fetch a book. I must have fallen asleep.”

“Damnit!” Sherlock yelled, wheeling out of the flat to check 221C.

“He came out to have a smoke.” Emma said monotonously, gesturing to some ash outside the door.

“Excuse me?” Her mother said, eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him, Mum. He’s not addicted. One or two a week. He’s probably just on a walk.” Emma explained airily, leaning against the building.

Kate was seething right next to Sherlock, who told their daughter, “And you were just on a walk when you were victim to contact by the most dangerous man in the country that should very well be dead.”

Emma sighed, “You should be dead too, according to that same afternoon.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “Enough of this, you two, or you’ll not just have this Moriarty to worry about. Where is my son?”

“I’ll call him.” Emma said, sighing again and pulling out her phone.

Kate glared at Sherlock, “What did you do to her?”

He actually had the decency to look confused, “I-I did nothing!”

Kate scoffed, “Likely story. This is exactly why I refused to let you home school her.”

“Her education would have been far superior to any that school could have given her.” Sherlock said defensively before grimacing ever so slightly, “And she was teased.”

“Children get teased, Sherlock. After that incident with breaking John Miller’s pinkie, she handled it all quite well. No harm done.” Kate insisted.

“You do recall that they tried to expel her for that ‘incident’, do you not?” He drawled, enjoying the way Kate’s cheeks flushed in frustration.

“Haim, where are you?” Emma asked into her phone. She relaxed at his answer, “Okay, no, stay there, we’ll come pick you up when you’re finished.”

“Where is he?” Kate asked, as soon as Emma hung up.

“At Dr. Morstan’s, said he needed to talk through some things with her and didn’t want to worry us.” She shot her parents a petulant look, “He’s fine. Can we find my fiancé now?”

Kate raised an eyebrow at her, “Emma...why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like your father.” Kate said firmly.

Sherlock looked affronted, “What’s wrong with the way I act?”

Kate shot him a warm smile, “Nothing, Love, it’s just not near as attractive on our daughter.”

Emma pulled her gun and badge out of the drawer she’d put them in, “Well, it’s either this or cry all day. Uncle Mycroft is right, sometimes caring is not an advantage.”

The man himself walked through the door, “Ah, well I’m glad someone listens to me.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not often.” Emma drawled.

Mycroft raised both eyebrows, looking over at Kate and Sherlock, “My, she’s lovely this afternoon. Should I come back after she’s had her morning coffee?”

“Speak, or leave, Uncle Mycroft, I’m not in the mood.” Emma said, and Kate elbowed Sherlock for looking way too pleased by their daughter’s ill manner to his brother.

“Em, be nice. I know you’re upset, but that’s no reason to be so bloody rude.” Kate chastised.

“There’s always reason to be rude to Mycroft.” Sherlock protested, resulting in being slapped, “Really, Kate, we have other things to do than to indulge your lessons from Irene.”

Mycroft and Emma winced in unison.

Sherlock got slapped again, “Sorry, Mycroft, nuclear family tiff. What can we help you with, Mycroft? Please, make it quick before they start ganging up on us.”

“Just thought I’d inform you that you’ve all come to the wrong conclusion.” Mycroft said smugly, “The young Mr. Lestrade has not been kidnapped.”

“What?” Emma asked, swaying a bit.

Her mother steadied her. Mycroft smiled, “He was called into work. His cellular was destroyed in a chase this morning. He’s quite alright, probably wondering about now why Molly and Mr. Watson have converged on his father’s office all teary eyed.”

“Dr. Watson.” Sherlock corrected.

“But we’re partners, why wasn’t I called too?” Emma asked, daring to hope that Julian was alright.

Mycroft positively sneered at her, “Seems your fiancé thought you needed some space.”

“Space? I had a seizure out of fright because he thought I needed space?” Emma thrust Gladstone at her mother, and grabbed the keys to the family car. “I’ll kill him!”

Mycroft was still smiling. Kate passed the puppy to Sherlock, “Hold him. And don’t start experimenting on him while I go to corral our daughter.”

Sherlock examined the puppy, who stared back at him with large black eyes, “I find your presence soothing. That unnerves me.” He forced the puppy into Mycroft’s arms, “Please, commence urinating on him.”

Mycroft held the puppy at a distance, scowl firmly fixed on his face. Mrs. Hudson tutted, “Mr. Holmes, that’s not how you hold a puppy, you’ll hurt him.” She took the creature from him and received a fond lick for her trouble, “Don’t you worry a bit, dearie, they’ll all simmer down, I’m sure. Now you and I are going to have a nice cuppa.”

Mycroft watched the old woman retreat back into her flat. “A cuppa with a mixed breed puppy? How horrendous.” Outside Emma and her mother were squabbling, Anthea watching them from over her phone, “Anthea, we’re going.” She nodded, flashing a fond smile to the little Holmes she’d watched grow up as she got into the car.

In the end, Kate drove. “You’re both rubbish drivers, and you know it.”

Sherlock gazed boredly at his de facto wife, “I don’t remember how. Never deemed it important in a city full of taxicabs. Deleted.”

Kate and Emma shared a look via the rear view mirror, and Emma leaned forward to see Sherlock’s face. “Wait, didn’t you once drive us to the beach on vacation?”

He grinned, “Ah, yes, if I remember correctly, there was lots of screaming. I rather enjoyed myself.”

“Do you even have a license?” Emma asked, wondering how she’d gone for nineteen years and not known these things about her father.

“Yes, I do. Mycroft arranged for one upon my return from the dead. I didn’t bother to tell him I never had one to start with. I assume he thought more documentation would make my return more evident.” Sherlock informed her.

Emma scoffed, “You’re both mad, aren’t you?”

“Mad? I think that’s a relative term. How long, perchance, are you going to ignore the status of your uterus? It’s getting terribly difficult to pretend not to notice your erratic hormone charged behavior.” Sherlock parried back.

“I really hate you sometimes.” Emma said, sitting back, but not answering his question.

“Sherlock, you’ll keep your mouth shut. Emma will talk about it when she’s ready.” Kate said defensively.

He arched an eyebrow, “She’d best be ready quick, John’s about to start asking questions. And he and Lestrade are worse then Mrs. Hudson’s bridge club.”

“Shut up, Da.” Emma said, no acid in her voice. She was too tired to really fight with him anymore.

Sherlock glanced over his right shoulder at her, aware he’d upset her, “Well, at least we can feel confident that you’re not going to be receiving pieces of Lestrade the Younger in the post.”

“That’s something.” Emma offered quietly, one hand lingering on her stomach, “I could ring his neck for making me panic like that.”

“Men’ll do that.” Kate offered.

“Don’t help, Mum.” Emma asked pleadingly. “I’m mad enough.”

“Well, don’t yell too loud. I do hate it when Greg comes complaining to me about you and Julian having a tiff. I’m your mother, not your ruler.” Kate replied, pulling up outside the Yard.

Emma was out the door a half second later, her mother fumbling out after her grumbled, “Fantastic.”

Sherlock followed slowly, unwilling to adopt the demeanor of a bumbling idiot of his lover and daughter. Sure, he was relieved that the boy was uninjured, a lot less trouble than a dead or dismembered member of their extended family, but his daughter was overreacting. He’d seen Kate have terribly emotional outbursts while pregnant with Hamish, but it had never bothered him as much as it did with Emma doing it. Of course the idea that she was pregnant in the first place was abhorrent to him. Kate had told him for years that Emma was a woman, but the initiation of another generation stemming from his daughter was enough to make his gut churn. Also, he had formulated approximately seventy-two methods by which to torture one Julian Lestrade just to the point of death before returning him to Emma. She would be highly upset if he broke her favorite toy. For some asinine reason, she had chosen Julian to be her version of John, only Julian didn’t come with a version of Kate. Hardly superior in any manner.

When he finally got inside, coat collar flipped up, Emma had her arms wrapped around Julian, who was muttering meaningless words into her red hair.

Molly and Lestrade were trying to pull themselves together, the pathologist having a particularly hard time. Kate and John were having a chat nearby, Kate running her hands absentmindedly through John’s curls. Sherlock joined his partners, pulling Kate’s hand out of John’s hair and kissing the back of her hand, the most affectionate gesture he could manage in public. Kate smiled, tracing her hand across the back of his cheekbone, “I invited Mycroft over for supper.”

John chuckled, but Sherlock glared at her, “What?”

Kate smiled mischievously, “Oh, don’t worry, he said no. Anthea’s planning something involving cake, I think. She was over last week chatting with Auntie about recipes.”

Emma and Julian were completely oblivious to the others in the room. “I’m so sorry, Em.” Julian said softly, “I had no idea you’d be so upset. I should have called from Joey’s phone once I knew you’d be up.”

“Yes, you should have. I’ve been a nervous wreck.” She took a deep breath, “And you should know. I’m pregnant.” Julian started laughing. “What?” Emma exclaimed, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

Julian kissed her, “My silly girl, I already knew.”

“How the bloody hell could you know? I’ve not been to a proper doctor yet!” She hissed.

He kissed her again, “I’m with you almost all day everyday. You spend so much time in your head that I know more about your body than you do.” He rubbed her stomach.

Emma scowled, looking far too much like her father, and pushed his hand away, “Stop that. At this stage in development, the fetus can’t sense external stimuli.”

“Does that mean I can rub all I want once it can?” Julian asked teasingly.

“Statistically, singing classical music to the fetus in the womb will increase brain development. Rubbing my abdomen will do nothing but anger me.” She said sternly.

Julian looked to Kate, still smiling. “Is this how Sherlock was with Hamish?”

Kate nodded, smiling back at him and stroking John’s back to get him to breathe. He was staring at Emma and Julian, “You bloody little bastard knocked up my daughter?”

Sherlock chuckled, settling against a desk to watch John yell at the young couple. Kate leaned next to him, “Don’t suppose we should tell him we knew, should we?”

He gave her a tiny smile, amused by John’s ire, “Best not. He’s yet to realize the exorbitant fees that will result due to having her wedding dress resized.”

Kate sighed, “Don’t remind me.”  
\-----------  
In Doctor Morstan’s office, Hamish felt better. She handed him a cup of tea, “Here you are, dear. Drink up.”

“Thank you.” He said, smiling at her.

She smiled back warmly, “Any time, Hamish. You’re my favorite patient, after all.”

“Your favorite.” Hamish echoed, staring at her.

Mary nodded, fixing her own cuppa. “You’re a brilliant young man, and so sweet too.”

He shrugged, “I’m not that smart.”

“Not everyone can get into Cambridge. That’s an impressive feat.” She gestured to his cup, “Keep drinking, dear, you’ll feel better.”

“I keep panicking.” Hamish said softly.

“It’s not unusual for someone who’s experienced what you have.” Mary told him, sitting down across from him.

“I want to forget it ever happened. I want everyone to forget about it.”

Mary pat his knee comfortingly, “I know, but you’ve got to accept that it happened before you can move on. I don’t have a quick fix, therapy takes work, Hamish, commitment, just like your schooling.”

“I like schooling. I don’t like this.” He whispered, hanging his head.

Mary tutted, “Drink your tea, dear.” She pat his knee again, “Talking about it makes you feel better, does it not?”

Hamish shrugged, taking a deep drink of tea, letting the warmth of the liquid spread into his bones. “I suppose. I’d rather tell Em, but she’d overreact, and Mum would just hold me and cry. I don’t want to be held when I feel like this.”

“Of course not. It’s a mother’s instinct to hold her child close in times of stress, but you want to relax, not feel constrained.” Mary’s voice was soft.

“Exactly.” He said, not speaking for a few minutes, calming himself down, “I can still feel their hands on me. Will that go away?”

“Perhaps, but that goal is a long way down the road from now. We’ll have plenty of time to figure it out though.” She assured him gently.

“Not really. I go to Cambridge in the fall.” Hamish’s stomach sank with a terrible thought, “How did you know I made it into Cambridge?”

Her smile never faltered, but he stood anyway, letting the teacup fall from his fingers onto the floor, “Now Hamish, your mother told me. She’s quite proud.”

Hamish refused to look away from her, backing towards the door. “My mother wouldn’t have called to tell you that. She hasn’t said it, but she feels guilty that I need to talk to someone besides her. Like she’s failed me.”

“Oh, Hamish. She has. She’s failed to keep you safe.” Mary stalked towards him just as his hand found the doorknob. It didn’t turn.

His heart was pounding harder, terror spreading whatever was in his blood even faster, “What did you put in my tea?”

“I would never hurt you, Hamish.” Mary said, gripping him under his arms as his knees buckled. She lowered him to the floor and knelt in front of him, still smiling.

It took too much effort to speak, but he repeated himself, staring into her eyes as the rest of his body shut down. “What did you put in my tea?”

“Quazepam, sweetheart. You’ll get some good sleep, promise. You just rest now.” Mary muttered, running her fingers through his dirty blonde curls.

“Why?” Hamish asked, hardly holding onto consciousness.

“Because I want to save you. You’re too perfect to be lost this way.” She told him, and the last strands of consciousness faded away.


End file.
